


Metaphorically Speaking

by velocitygrass



Series: Ever fallen in love? [32]
Category: Stargate Atlantis RPS
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, POV First Person, Partner Betrayal, Relationship Upgrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-02
Updated: 2008-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-19 07:11:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2379467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velocitygrass/pseuds/velocitygrass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The house always wins and the Casino of Joe was well owned and run by Katherine, with Aidan and Truman forming a strong foundation of the building.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Metaphorically Speaking

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [dooooooom](http://dooooooom.livejournal.com/). My taboo is adultery (and RPS if you will) and my prompt was "The House Always Wins". Many thanks to neevebrody for the beta!
> 
> This is entirely a work of fiction.

The house always wins.

It's the way casinos operate and the only way they _can_ operate.

I knew this.

It's not a problem if you're just playing to have a bit of fun: Putting aside a set amount of money to spend and playing because of the atmosphere and the thrill, not to win, because you can't ever really win.

And that was all I wanted when it started. Just sex, just resolving the sexual tension that I was surprised to still feel for others after the first months of being intensely in love with Jane.

I knew—or thought I knew I should say—that the thing with Joe would never lead anywhere. It couldn't. The house always wins and the Casino of Joe was well owned and run by Katherine, with Aidan and Truman forming a strong foundation of the building.

I had been eyeing the tables for a while until the croupier finally signaled that I was allowed to join him. It was an honor, because this was the kind of place where most people could only watch. In fact, if the metaphor was correct, only the manager could play. Just stay with me if you will.

When I first sat down to play, I wasn't in it for the money.

Maybe it would have been that, just a few rounds of Black Jack, a role of the dice, a spin of the roulette wheel, and I would have left the table and only ever come back to the place to sit at the bar and have a drink, but not to play.

The thing was, I did win.

Not much obviously, but it still was a delightful surprise and it made me just a bit more reluctant to give it up again. Feeling Joe touch me was amazing, but the thrill soon became the broken way he called my name or how he laid his forehead against mine when we just held each other. It wasn't at all what I'd expected or even wanted. I had my own casino in the making after all and I didn't need the money. But every time the ball dropped on my number or I got exactly the card that I needed, I couldn't reject my prize, I took it gladly.

Playing for fun was great, but actually _winning_ made it all the better.

The house always wins, though, and I could see the mixed feelings of the croupier every time he handed over my gains. He was happy for me and I felt that I'd _earned_ it fair and square, but he could and would never forget that the house had to win at the end of the day.

The first time I wasn't allowed back to the table wasn't surprising. I should never have been allowed to play in the first place. Joe had always expressed his guilt and I have to admit in the beginning, I wasn't sure if he was just being a drama queen. When he ended it the first time, I still wasn't sure if he couldn't take the guilt anymore or if our game just wasn't worth the hassle.

I might not have minded so much if I'd never won. Sex is just a momentary pleasure. I have two perfectly good hands and I had Jane, so stopping to have sex with Joe wasn't the problem. The problem was that it had been more than that.

Back then, I didn't want to see it. Mourning a buddy fuck between colleagues would have been ridiculous and while I'd felt _something_ , I didn't want to examine what it was. Because it wouldn't really matter. I'd known it would go nowhere and Joe had ended it, which was the end of the story.

Except it wasn't.

I still went to have drinks at the bar and was welcome for that and when I looked over towards the table, I tried to be inconspicuous about it. Sometimes the croupier would look at me and there'd be a moment of recognition between us, but I never went and asked if I could join him again, because I knew he could only say no.

The casino closed up shop for a few months and while I love hiatus as much as anyone, I missed Joe. When we were back on set, I was pleased to find out that he'd missed me too. More than that, after a few weeks, he admitted that he hadn't just missed my presence, he had missed _me_ , _being_ with me, _us_.

Being back at the table was great. And this time I didn't pretend that it wasn't about winning, but at least I knew for sure that my gains were freely given. What we were doing meant something to Joe, and that was the only reason he was willing to do it at all.

I felt guilty too, but unlike Joe, I tried not to dwell too much on what we did. Feeling guilty didn't _change_ what we did. The only thing that would was actually stopping. Those were my options, to leave or to stay and I chose to stay and stood by that choice.

When the stakes are higher, when you're not just playing for fun anymore, losing is much more painful. And I always lost. Every time we were together, Joe left before I wanted him to, before I was ready to let him go. But what I wanted didn't matter because I had to play by the house rules or not play at all.

The second time I was banned from the tables, I fought back. I argued my case. I knew that Joe's feelings hadn't changed. And to _know_ that he felt something made it all the more painful. To end a buddy fuck was one thing, but what we had after the first break had been more and we _both_ knew it.

Even having a drink at the bar was painful during that time. The longing was joined by bitterness and the fact that I knew Joe still wanted it—wanted _me_ —made it that much harder to accept that it was over.

I'm not sure if I hoped he'd come back. Actually, I am sure that I hoped for it, but I don't remember if I thought it could happen. And I don't suppose it matters. The important thing is that he did come back.

I was back in the game and when the casino closed for its regularly scheduled maintenance, I was happy in the knowledge that I could go back to playing when I returned. And the croupier did manage to sneak me in a few times, which made it even easier.

Easy is a relative term, of course, because what we did was never _easy_. Katherine was pregnant with their third child. Joe eventually ended it again, because he couldn't do that to her, except that he could and he did—repeatedly.

It wasn't pretty that time. Imagine the metaphorical me throwing cards and chips and making a real scene. The shouting match we had that day isn't something I like to remember, even if I can't forget it. We both said things we didn't mean and this time it carried over to the relationship that we had in front of others.

The fight lasted a few weeks until it died down and we reached a truce, because in the end we're colleagues and friends and really like each other.

Joe came back to me after Fergus was born. What we had might have been wrong, but there was no other way for us. I was addicted to the game. I managed to keep it in check just enough not to ruin me, but I still gambled more than I should have, willing to up the ante even though I knew I'd never come out on top.

I asked Jane to marry me, because she was my future and what I had with Joe had neither future, past nor present, just moments in time, moments stolen when no one else was looking.

Which was the reason I didn't fight when he ended it again. Or maybe I was just too tired. He said that he couldn't stand in the way of my happiness, that I needed to think of my family, because the Hewlett Casino was in the process of setting down its first block of the foundation, something about which I was ecstatic. 

I could have pointed out that being with Joe didn't change anything, but by now I knew he wouldn't listen. Joe always wanted to do the right thing. What we'd had never fit into his life because it was _wrong_. He couldn't accept that sometimes _a_ wrong thing could still be _the_ right thing—for us.

I accepted it. I enjoyed drinking at the bar well enough and I still had other things in my life that needed my attention.

Of course, he came back, like every other time before. Only this time, when the croupier called me to his table, apologetic over having tormented us both, I didn't go.

I think deep down I knew that I had to do that to finally make him see and _accept_. It was a ballsy bluff, even though I'm pretty sure that I was certain he'd come back at the time. I don't think I could have ever given Joe up voluntarily.

When he came to me again, I told him it would be the last time, that I would never go through that again. He agreed and from then on, he let me play, always with the proviso that the house _would_ always win.

It should have been simple enough. We both knew the rules. But I found myself starting to question the truth that we both took for granted. I wanted more. I wanted the jackpot, wanted to clean out the vault, hell, I wanted it all.

The fact that I couldn't have it, that even if I wanted it bad enough, I didn't have the _power_ to make it mine was both a source of frustration and relief. Relief, because I had Jane and she wouldn't deserve being left for someone else. Not that she deserved being cheated on, but as I said, once I made the decision, I accepted that choice.

I never told Joe about my dreams. The metaphorical heist was something that I only fantasized about, and I couldn't share it because Joe had already given me more than I could have expected from him and it would have been unfair to ask for something that I _knew_ he couldn't give.

The call came during our seventh year together—if you want to call it that, which I do.

After over two years of contemplating what I never thought I could have, I found myself at the casino facing a sign that read, "Looking for New Management. Apply Within."

I was too shocked to even realize what it meant when Joe told me he had left Katherine. Of course, Joe had been in such a state that my only concern had been whether he and his family were fine.

When it finally sank in, I had to face my own decision. I could have been mad at Joe for never giving me a hint that the rules could simply be broken. I had built my life on the belief that we could never be together. I had counted on it, even as I had hated it. But in the end, I felt nothing but gratitude towards him, gratitude for what he had done to make it possible for us to really be together.

I can't describe the feeling of finally being able to walk around the bar and tables and _everywhere_ , knowing that it's all mine and that nobody else ever gets to play at the tables anymore. I can sit down, experience the thrill of winning and remain secure in the knowledge that I'll never really lose, because it all belongs to me now.

The house always wins.

And if you're the house, then that rule is just perfect.


End file.
